Another Frozen Heart
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: It's not easy to undo a lifetime of doubt and despair. Slowly, the wayward Son of Sparda and the Queen of Arendelle shall find forgiveness in each other's arms. Vergil/Elsa, with Anna and Dante running interference. Chapter 13 uploaded on May 25.
1. The Queen and the Devil

_The man once called Vergil, his powers run wild after his defeat, hurtled through time and space. He comes to rest in the kingdom of Arendelle, the land that time forgot. His arrival could not come at a better time. With the usurper Hans of the Southern Isles banished to his homeland to await his family's judgment, peace has returned. Yet the queen remains troubled by her past and the powers she never asked for._

_The road to forgiveness is long and arduous. The queen and the demon shall walk it together, for a while at least._

* * *

Something far and away is calling him back from the nightmares of servitude. It's faint, it might not even be there, but it is all he has. He claws his way through the darkness, and the darkness claws back. It tears at him until his flesh is stripped away and he can hardly move, hardly stand, until the eyes sear into his mind and he screams in silent pain. The light that is not light burns like the fires of hell, burns him until there is only ash where his soul had been. At last the eyes fade into a watchful malicious contentment. A voice as deep as a mountain bids him rise. Without thinking, he does, and the voice laughs inside him, but the fire still burns, hotter than before. He wants to scream again, but the sound that comes from his mouth is not a scream. It's hardly even human.

His breathing is fast and shallow as he comes to. The three spots of light that he had thought to be eyes are nothing but candles on a tabletop. He struggles to sit up and finds that the darkness he had been fighting is instead a set of bedsheets, soft and well-made in more ways than one. He scowls in disgust at his moment of panic, then realizes what the feel of the sheets against his skin represents. The armor of the 'dark angel' is gone. It was never really his, just a 'gift' from his master. He wonders for a moment what happened to it. _It's no longer my concern. _The sound of his own thoughts inside his mind shocks him. There was no stab of pain that used to swiftly accompany any potentially rebellious notions. There was...nothing.

He falls back against the pillow, his wandering gaze searching the room for some idea where he might be. Unlike the castle on Mallet Island, crumbling and rotted and haunted by the vanguard of his former master's army, this one appears well-maintained and orderly. _The only nightmares here are the ones you carry with you._

His eyes dart towards the door. There are footsteps outside. He looks about the room again, more quickly this time, searching for the best place to stand to greet his host. As the footsteps draw nearer however, he's overcome by a sudden uncharacteristic desire to stay exactly where he is. And so he does, but not before testing the sheets for any weak spot in the way they'd been applied to the bed. _Perhaps once I find out who's been holding me here, I'll have managed enough strength for a quick escape..._

* * *

The best laid plans of mice and half-demon-half-men gang aft agley, as an old Scotsman might have said. Whatever his plans were or might have been, he subconsciously (although very decisively) threw them out of the window by the foot of the bed when the door finally opens. A stunning young woman with hair as white as his and rich blue eyes, deeper than even his old coat, crosses the threshold. Her heels click against the stone floor and he struggles to tear his gaze away as she comes closer. He finds his voice somehow, hoarser and more worn then the last time he'd heard it. "Where am I?"

"You're safe." Her voice is soothing, calms him even though he struggles to stay on edge. "You're in the castle of Arendelle." The name conjures up distant memories of dusty old rooms and dreary geography studies that vanish as quickly as they arrived. "I am Elsa; _Queen_ Elsa." she corrects herself. "I still haven't gotten used to that..." In spite of himself, he's impressed with the matter-of-fact way she says it; not a hint of pride or vanity, just a simple fact. She brushes aside the curtain over the window and the last rays of the setting sun catch her dress, dazzling him for a moment. She gazes out for a long quiet moment, and he takes the opportunity to study her. An almost wistful look crosses her face as she looks to the north. He stares at her elegant profile just a little too long before he thinks to ask, "How did I get here?"

She looks at him cautiously. "You fell into the harbor three days ago. No one knows where you came from. When they pulled you out, you were...burning."

"Burning..."

"With this horrible blue fire. I had to come down and put you out myself."

"How?"

She's startled for a moment. "What?"

"How did you put me out?" he asks.

"I..." She turns away, not to the window and the dying light, but to a dark and empty corner of the room. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Not even a hint?" he asks dryly. He sits up, puts his bare feet to the cold stone floor and tries to stand. He sways unsteadily but takes a step toward her. Suddenly, his vision blurs. His heart feels as if it wants to burst from his chest, and he crumples to the floor. He thinks he hears the queen gasp before everything goes dark.

* * *

It is still dark the next time he wakes. He stares vacantly at the ceiling. He hears voices at the door, but he is too tired to focus on them. He hears her coming, hears her heels clicking against the stone more softly than before. From the corner of his eye, he watches as she leans in closer. "Hello?" she whispers. He's too tired to answer, too tired even to reproach himself for the way his stomach flutters when he hears her. She's even more beautiful now; lips parted in concern. "Can you hear me?" He nods about a quarter of an inch. Her shoulders slump slightly in relief, and she _almost_ smiles. He wishes he could too.

She sits down beside him on the very edge of the bed. "Who are you?" she whispers. He lets his head roll to the side, away from her wide searching eyes. She rests a hand on his. He's shocked at how cold it is, even through the warmth and fabric of the sheets. "That fire wasn't natural..." Was that hope in her voice? "Are...are you like me?"

The cold feel of her hand reminds him of who he is. He hardens his mind and heart and turns to face her. "My name is Vergil. I am a son of the Dark Knight Sparda. And I am _nothing_ like you."


	2. The Devil Alone With His Thoughts

_"Cold be hand and heart and bone,_  
_and cold be sleep under stone:_  
_never more to wake on stony bed,_  
_never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead._  
_In the black wind the stars shall die,_  
_and still on gold here let them lie,_  
_till the dark lord lifts his hand_  
_over dead sea and withered land."_ - J.R.R Tolkien's Fellowship of the Ring

* * *

A cold wind blows that night, even inside the castle, and no matter how hard Vergil tries, how much he trembles alone in that room underneath the silken sheets, it will not leave. He tosses and turns, watches the candles until they sputter and die, and curses the world. He curses the emperor, he curses his brother, he curses his father (but never his mother), he curses the queen and the things that he should not feel for a mere human. And he curses himself once the anger has passed, for he dares not cling to it as he once did.

_No one has escaped the demon king before,_ he thinks to himself. _Perhaps it's fitting that a Son of Sparda should be the first._ _But where do I proceed from here? Even _**his**_ power was not enough to stand against Dante_... He cannot say how he knows, but he does: Mundus is gone.

He yearns to stand at the window and look at the night sky. Even in the depths of his loneliness and anger, his regret and blind impotent rage, the stars have always provided some measure of comfort. He wonders if he could ever be strong enough to fly through the vast abyss of space, to soar among the universe until he found new worlds, with new forms and ways of life undreamed of by the fairest or foulest minds alike. _What use is there in planning for the future? _he realizes. _I can hardly even stand._

The thought of one weakness leads him to another. _Why does that woman, that...Elsa, bother me so? I don't even know her. Only what she is, what she looks like, what she smells like... _He pounds a fist against his leg savagely. _Useless!_ He takes slow deep breaths to center himself. _Keep it together. You are a Son of Sparda. You will not let some foolish slip of a girl distract you._

_Distract me from what?_ he asks suddenly. _My quest for power is over. If I go back, I will be doomed to walk the same path again._

_There are other ways to gain power. Your father could love; why can't you?_

_Love?_ Vergil grits his teeth. _What does love have to do with this? I don't even know her!_

_Who can say what love will do if they have not felt it?_

He smirks. V_ery trite. _The angry smile fades slowly as he wonders. _Was he right? My loudmouthed braggart of a brother...is he really stronger than me?_

There is no answer. Vergil loses himself in voiceless thoughts until the light starts to rise. _I've been a fool,_ he decides at length. _When she returns, I will make amends._

_IF she returns..._

* * *

The hours pass in silent contemplation, as he searches within for the strength of his father. The more he looks, the harder it becomes to concentrate. The sounds of the castle waking up and the blood rushing through his ears are like peals of thunder to a restless spirit. When he re-emerges for the fifth time, he thinks of giving in to his anger and letting that do the work. Instead, he breathes again, letting the sounds wash over him instead of fighting for his peace of mind. Down, down, down he goes into the center of himself. With each passing moment, he feels a trickle of life enter his body again. At first he revels in it, but the joy threatens to take him up with it, so he lets it go.

It is something deeper than sleep, more active, yet it forces him to be passive as well. He seeks out the fibers of his power and they seek him out as well, clamoring for his attention. He struggles to keep his mind empty, sardonically aware of the inherent paradox. _I search for nothingness, but my search is still something._

At length, he opens his eyes and his mind, and returns to himself. The room appears exactly as he had left it. There is no trace of the queen. Despite his renewed strength, he feels as if something is missing. _There is more work to be done. I will speak to her when I am whole._ he thinks.

_Wait,_ a part of him says. _There is nothing to gain by being impatient._

_But there is nothing to lose._

_Nothing except your self-respect. You would seek her out? A mere human? Why does she matter to you? Retrieve your power and be rid of her and this Arendelle._

_The old me died in the Demon Realm. I will not make the same mistakes again._

The conversation rages on throughout the day. Would it comfort him, do you think, to know that the queen was waging a similar battle with herself at that very moment? But comfort is still ahead, through hardship and friendship alike.


	3. The Devil Comes Out To Play

_You do it to yourself, you do,_  
_And that's what really hurts_  
_Is you do it to yourself,_  
_Just you; you and no one else._  
_You do it to yourself._  
_You do it to yourself._ - Just by Radiohead

* * *

The morning sun finds the former invalid Vergil standing on his head. He's been up for hours; with much of his old strength back, he'd found it even more impossible to stay in bed and sleep, so he decided to get a quick workout in. As is so often the case however, a quick workout for a man (and he is a man now, he reflects) with demon blood in his veins would give lesser, mortal men a heart attack.

As the bells begin to toll seven o'clock, Vergil vaults to his feet in one smooth motion. As he lands and pauses for the absent audience, he wishes he still had Yamato for an extra flourish. Perhaps it had been found with him when he arrived (however he managed it); he can't recall if it had been transformed into the greatsword he wielded as Nelo Angelo... _It's certainly worth asking the queen about._

_And is that all you want to ask her? _the mocking voice in his head asks. He ignores it and heads for the door. _You should ask for a change of clothes. These rags you're wearing are unbefitting a Son of Sparda._

_Are you going to be here much longer? _Vergil asks the voice. _I was looking forward to having my mind to myself._

_You already do, _the voice answers. _There's no one else here._

He stops as his hand comes to rest on the door handle. _Am I of two minds on everything? Must I ask you before deciding which foot to place before the other?_

_This shouldn't be a surprise. All your life, you have been torn between worlds: the world of your father and that of your mother. You can't keep running forever. You have to choose._

Vergil shakes his head. "My recovery may not have been as complete as I thought..." he murmurs. He opens the door and nearly collides with a couple of servants bearing an armful of clean sheets on the other side. The man stumbles and against his baser demonic instincts, Vergil reaches out to steady him. "I'm terribly sorry sir! I was just about to knock." the man apologizes.

What should he say? What should he do? His brother would shrug it off with a laugh and a joke and a winning smile, while he could do none of those. He forgot how to laugh quite some time ago, he can't tell the kind of joke the situation calls for, and a smile... Vergil settles for what he hopes is a friendly nod and says, "There's nothing to be sorry about. I should have heard you coming."

The woman smiles, which Vergil studies intently, hoping to find a secluded mirror to try one of his own in later. "I hope you don't mind; we were just coming in to tidy up a bit."

Vergil steps aside for them. "Not at all. I was..." He trails away as an unbidden image of Elsa's face when he introduced himself flashes before his eyes. _You've done far worse than offhandedly insult someone_, the voice whispers. "Where is the queen?" he asks abruptly.

The man hesitates before answering. "Queen Elsa is probably in the great hall."

"She has to sit on that throne all day now, the poor dear." the woman adds.

"You've known her for some time." Vergil observes.

"We've been with the family since before they were born." the man says with a touch of pride.

"It was awfully hard after their parents died." the woman says, and the man nods sadly.

"They?"

"Her Highness and Princess Anna. They had a rather...difficult relationship." There is so much weight in that brief pause; the man knows more than he's saying.

"But that's all behind them now." the woman says gratefully. "Now that they can actually talk to one another."

"I see." Vergil hopes that didn't sound as ominous as he thinks it did. "I won't keep you any longer." Again he wishes that he could smile; the best he can do is to stand slightly less stiffly than usual. "Thank you for your time...?"

"My name is Kai, and this is my wife Gerda." the man says, gesturing to himself and the woman as well as he can with an armful of sheets.

Vergil curls his lips upward faintly in what he hopes will pass for a smile. "If all goes well, I'll be out of your way for some time. I have some explaining to do."

They bid him cheerful, though not effusive, farewells and he walks past them to the stairs. _This kind of life doesn't suit you, _the voice says. _You'd be better off with the demons._

_What makes you think they weren't in disguise?_

_Too commonplace._

_Aren't you the snob._

_You are, aren't you?_

Vergil comes to a halt at the bottom of the staircase.

_And that's the least of your problems._

He folds his hand into a fist to stop himself from covering his face. _You are worse than my brother. Leave._

_Only because it suits me._

He waits to see if the voice is true to its word. It seems so. He unclenches his fist and forces himself to breathe, to relax. "Now for the hard part." he says aloud.


	4. Reunion

_And so they circle in  
Total fascination,  
Turning rings around each other.  
And she knows he doesn't know  
That he's in love._

_And tomorrow never comes,_  
_And the future fills with memories_  
_Of two people so in love..._

_And tomorrow never comes,_  
_And the future fills with memories_  
_Of two people so in love..._ - Annie Watches by Lynn Hilary

* * *

Queen Elsa's beautiful pale face is awash in a multitude of conflicting emotions. He can see fear there; fear of what? His demonic heritage? There is curiosity mingling with that fear, and just before a mask of regal indifference falls into place, a hint of something else, something that worries him more than all the others. "Your Highness," Vergil begins, with a deep courteous bow. "Since our last meeting, I've come to regret the way we parted. I was intolerably rude, and I beg your forgiveness." The words fall easily from his lips as he tells himself, tells the voice that even now regards him with silent scorn, that they're just words, mindless flattery, the kind he's always been good at, though he always hated having to rely on them.

She looks at him in a way that makes him worry he might be underdressed for court. The simple white tunic and leggings he had found himself two days before and which he wears even now, while not his first choice, suited him fine in the privacy of his own room; but in the midst of the lords and ladies of Arendelle he feels ill at ease. Though they may be few in number, the finery of their attire is not lessened for it, and, not for the first time, he wishes he had his old coat back.

Then she speaks. "I accept your apology, Son of Sparda." Vergil bows again, though he still finds himself inexplicably anxious. "If there's nothing else, I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to..."

"There is nothing else that troubles me. Thank you your Highness." he lies. He steps back to let the next person take his place and walks briskly to a far corner of the room that he knew would be empty, having kept his eyes upon it before the queen had addressed him (and his ears after he had spoken).

For the next hour, he keeps himself busy by watching the lords and ladies as they make their cases to the queen, watching the queen as she hears them out, watching the lords and ladies accept her verdict with as much dignity as they can muster, no matter the outcome. He admires her poise from afar, averting his eyes now and then when he thinks she might catch on.

He wonders if he should approach her after the public reception ends, but as he is about to call her name, a swarm of advisers appears from out of nowhere and bustle around her. He watches them leave from his position against the wall. "You'd never catch me in that line of work." he mutters. "I guess I'll look around the castle until she's free."

* * *

In spite of himself, Vergil is impressed with the castle of Arendelle. Well-built, well-lit, spacious and elegant; everything Mallet Island's had not been. He pauses at the entrance to a courtyard, with a beautiful garden and a tiny little stream running through the middle. He frowns in disbelief at the ducks both large and small paddling about in the stream. _It's so...wholesome,_ he thinks to himself. _It doesn't feel real. But what does?_

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He tries, he really does try not to let his stomach lurch like that when the queen says something, but she caught him off guard. _She does that a lot._ he thinks darkly to himself. Aloud, he says, "I suppose so." (He hopes he doesn't sound snide.)

"I wish I could go inside." There's an almost plaintive note to her voice, and he glances at her in confusion.

"So why don't you?" he asks. Elsa seems to shrink a little, clutching at herself. "You are the queen, aren't you?" he says. _Like she needs to be reminded..._

"That's Anna's special place; I-I couldn't..." she stammers.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

Vergil holds out his hand. "Do you trust me?"

Elsa looks at his hand with her large somber eyes, then at him, and seems to shrink even more. "No... I-I don't even know you."

A corner of his mouth lifts in a sardonic smile. "On the whole, I'd say that's a good thing." He holds out his hand again. "Just this once."

Suddenly he worries that he's pushed her too far, and for what? A walk in the park? But then she places her hand in his and he forgets how to breathe. Her skin is so soft, so smooth, so pale, so cold, so... He has no more words, so he takes a deep breath, as deep as he can without advertising the fact, and steps into the light. Elsa stops, shakes her head nervously, but he pulls on her hand encouragingly, and then she's there beside him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her other hand, and she laughs, laughs again, then she's laughing, dazzling, glittering, sparkling, wonderful wonderful... She's let go of his hand now, but he doesn't care, he just wants to watch as she twirls around, arms outstretched to take in the whole of the courtyard, the whole of the castle, the whole of the world.

When the moment dies and the faintest hint of a cloud passes overhead, Vergil can see that he's in love. Perhaps Elsa does too; when she turns to him, he sees that look behind her eyes once more. He clears his throat. "We should...go." he mutters.

"Yes, we should... I mean, what would someone think if they saw us...?" She takes after her sister more than she knows.

They're silent for a while, looking at anything except one other. She holds out her hand at last, and it's trembling. "Tomorrow then." she says hesitantly.

He bends low to kiss the back of her hand. "Tomorrow it is." he murmurs. She blushes, she actually blushes, and hurries away. She stops for a moment at the entrance (though from this angle it's more of an exit). He smiles at her; it comes so easily now, so effortlessly. She smiles back, lowering her head slightly to look at him coyly through her immaculately combed lashes. _Does she know what she's doing to me?_ Vergil almost moans to himself. Then she's gone, with nothing but the smile in his heart to remind him that she had been there.

That night there are no voices in their heads, no whispers of their failings, no cold hand of fear gripping their hearts as they lie awake gazing at the ceiling. As soon as their doors close, they break into identical astonished smiles which last them until well after dawn.


	5. The Sunshine

_'Cause you are my medicine_  
_When you're close to me..._  
_When you're close to me._ - On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz

* * *

Elsa is already there when he opens the door, clutching her hands to her chest and twisting them together anxiously. Vergil busies himself with making sure the door is closed before he trusts himself to ask, "How long were you waiting?"

"Not long." she assures him with a nervous smile, which he still remembers how to return. "Did you sleep well?" she asks.

"I did actually; better than I'd slept in a long time." She beams happily and he could kiss her. "What about you?"

Somehow that was the wrong thing to say. She _wilts_. "I'm fine." Memories of sleepless nights beyond counting bear down upon her; she hunches her shoulders defensively. "I'm always fine." She gathers up her gown and hurries past him to the stairs.

"Elsa...!" She turns back to face him; he finds himself counting the heartbeats until he can look into her deep blue eyes once more. "Your Highness," Vergil corrects himself. "It would be my honor to accompany you." He's disgusted at the way he grovels, and hopes she won't think less of him for it. Elsa looks at him without speaking, her face unreadable. Finally she says, "No. The honor is mine." She smiles, but it is small and timid compared to what it had been, and holds out a lily-white hand to him. He takes it, his heart lightening even as it skips a beat when he touches her.

They descend the stairs slowly, carefully, elegantly, pretending not to care if anyone sees. They gaze at one other out of the corners of their eyes, both wishing that this moment could last forever. But it doesn't, and the very next one sees Elsa pull her hand free as they reach the bottom. Vergil says nothing, but the noxious self-loathing begins to bubble anew. They walk the halls in silence, unsure of what to say.

As they pass the library, Elsa is the first to speak. "Tell me about Sparda." she says awkwardly.

Vergil's face is carefully neutral. "There's not much to say. He was my father, and a good man." He adds reluctantly, "I wish I was more like him."

"What was he like?" Elsa asks.

A natural question, to which he can only say, "He was a good man."

Elsa hugs herself in the uncomfortable quiet that follows, caressing her forearms slowly. Vergil idly wishes he could do that to her as well, then regards that thought and himself with ill-focused scorn.

"You're awfully young to be a queen." he says abruptly.

Her steps falter. "My mother...and father...they..." He recognizes the pain of loss in the words left unspoken.

"I'm sorry." he offers lamely. She doesn't say anything. He shudders as a sudden gust of cold air blows past them.

"I miss them..." she whispers and the chill grows ever deeper.

Suddenly it all falls into place. "How long have you been able to do this?" Vergil asks.

"Do what?" Elsa asks, fooling nobody.

"This." He gestures into the wind. "I felt it the first night I regained consciousness, after I...insulted you."

She closes her eyes and takes deep shuddering breaths. "What you said to me...it hurt." she says finally, and it feels like he's been stabbed. "I thought I'd found someone who knew what it was like to be alone. To have something _wrong_ with them; something that they can't control..."

"I do know what that's like." he says quietly.

"You do?" she whispers, with a look of desperate hope that hurts him more than the wind ever could.

"My brother and I are not what you might call ordinary. When his powers awakened, the first thing he did was run headlong down a skyscraper, gunning down a flock of Bloodgoyles as he went. He did get swallowed by a demon whale though; that's another thing I'll never let him live down."

Elsa laughs in disbelief and the cold begins to dwindle. "He sounds like quite the character."

"Think that's bad? You should hear what happened to me." Vergil says, but before he can say anything else, someone far away calls Elsa's name. The queen turns to see who it is, and has just enough time to turn back to Vergil with a smile and a brief "Speaking of siblings..." before another slender young woman appears, vibrant red hair flying behind her, and practically collides with Elsa, flinging her arms tight around her. Vergil looks on as the newcomer pulls away for a moment to look the queen in the eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?" she asks in concern.

Elsa smiles fondly and the air turns back into summer. "I'm fine Anna. I just..." Her voice trails off; she shrugs almost bashfully before returning to Anna's embrace. They hold each other for a long time, leaving Vergil feeling somewhat unneeded. When he edges past them, however, the redhead opens one eye and glares at him. "And where do you think you're going?" she says as menacingly as she can while still hugging her sister.

"To my room. If it IS still my room. You seem to have a grudge against me, if your tone is anything to go by." Vergil replies coolly.

"A grudge?" she splutters, trying to untangle herself from Elsa, who clearly knows her sister well; she's clinging to the redhead even more tightly than before with a determined smile on her face. The smile's contagious and soon Vergil's showing symptoms, which only serves to make Anna angrier. "Elsaaa..." she half-grumbles half-whines. Elsa laughs, but the laugh quickly turns into a yelp of surprise when Anna breaks free and scrambles away to stand toe-to-toe with the amused Vergil with her face scrunched up and her hands on her hips in an effort to look imposing. "Do you have any idea how hard she was crying the other night?" she demands of him.

He and Elsa wince in ill-disguised shock, but he recovers enough to say, "The past is the past, and she certainly isn't crying now. In fact, I would take care if I were you. Who knows what she's planning..."

The queen takes that as her cue and lunges forward, wrestling Anna to the ground. Ignoring her half-hearted pleas for mercy, Elsa's fingers dance along her sister's sides, and the hallway echoes with their lovely peals of laughter.

Several gleeful moments later, Elsa stops to look for Vergil and sees him ascending a distant staircase. While Anna gasps for breath, Elsa gazes after him, her smile faltering as he disappears upstairs, too lost in his own inner turmoil to feel her eyes upon him.

"Your turn!" Anna yells, taking advantage of her older sister's distraction and swiftly turning the tables. Elsa lets out a decidedly undignified shriek, but turnabout is fair play, as they say, and it is only the eventual intervention of a passing snowman that frees her to attend to her duties.


	6. The Silence of the Night

_When you're alone, silence is all you know..._

_When you're alone, silence is all you know... _

_Let in the noise and let it grow._

_When you're alone, silence is all you see... _

_When you're alone, silence is all you'll be... _

_Give me your hand and come to me. _- Abigail's Song, written by Murray Gold and performed by Katherine Jenkins

* * *

A soft knock at the door rouses Vergil from his dark and lonely thoughts. He staggers to the door, hoping against hope...

For once, his hope is repaid. Elsa stands before him once again, clad in a luscious black nightgown. He doesn't know much about fashion, but he knows what he likes, and he likes the way it contrasts with her skin and the beautiful braid of hair across her left shoulder, though perhaps 'likes' is too weak a word for how it makes him feel. "Did I wake you?" she asks in a low nervous whisper that thrills him to the bone.

"No, I was...no." he finishes simply.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking..." she says. She looks distraught. Beaten. Worn down by the relentless sorrow marching about in her head.

She turns to go. "Elsa." he hisses. She walks away. He hurries after her. "Elsa!" She keeps walking, keeps forcing back the tears. He follows her until she reaches her room, and when she sees him beside her, there is a look of such intense relief on her face that he can hardly stand it. "Talk to me." he urges her. She's fighting a losing battle; the tears keep coming, shimmering in the candlelight, no matter how hard she brushes them away; and for a moment, he's torn between the sense of decorum that he has instilled in himself and the feelings that on good nights (nights when the voice of failure and despair can leave well enough alone) he might call love. Then he surrenders.

Vergil steps forward and encloses Elsa in his arms. She stiffens in surprise, then relaxes into his embrace. His pulse is pounding like he just fought off a horde of Damned Chessmen. He's never done this before. Is he supposed to murmur sweet nothings into her ear? Stroke her back? Rock her gently from side to side as he would an infant if a mother was ever brave enough to entrust him with one? All of the above? None of the above? Dante would know what to do. Dante always knew what to do. Manipulated and beaten by a sadistic scheming mortal who wanted to become more than, less than what he was? Charge back up the tower after him. No questions asked. No hesitation. The man of action. Vergil has always preferred to sit back and observe, to let things go just a little further before he acts. Now he worries it's made him indecisive. He worries what Elsa is thinking. He always worries what Elsa is thinking. He always worries what anyone is thinking now.

His frantic thoughts are brought to a sudden halt when she pulls away from him and gazes pleadingly into his eyes. "Will you stay with me?" she whispers.

"How could I refuse such a blatantly improper offer?" he replies. She blushes and he smiles in what he fervently hopes is not an intimidating manner. "Lead the way." She takes him by the hand and leads him into her chambers, casting an endearing look in both directions before closing the door behind them.

The room is dark. The faint traces of moonshine from behind a curtain are the only source of light, but Vergil can still see her. He hears the fabric of her dress rustle as she shifts in place, he smells the lightest touch of vanilla upon her skin (the only perfume she'll use), he feels her walk softly to the window and throw open the curtain. The moonlight falls sparkling into her hair. He is spellbound. Starstruck. Struck dumb. Elsa turns to him, and it hurts even more. "Why didn't you wake your sister?" Vergil asks quietly.

She looks slightly ashamed. "I can't talk to her about every little thing. It wouldn't be right. She has her own life to lead. Her own lov-" She puts a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

"She loves you." Vergil says. He files away what she might have said for another time.

"I know she does. And I...I love her." Elsa says softly. "I just..." He comes to stand at her side, marveling at his own calm. "I don't want her to worry."

He wonders if he should try to touch her, put an arm around her shoulders or her waist, and that last thought takes him into dangerous territory. He struggles to find his way free of those thoughts and the room falls silent.

"Thank you for coming." Elsa says at last, smiling shyly as she does.

"We may as well be lonely together." Vergil says and instantly regrets it. It's too harsh, too critical, he tried too hard to be deep and meaningful, but she doesn't seem to mind. She reaches for his hand, doesn't hold it, just brushes her fingers against his so he can practically feel the sparks fly as they touch. "Couldn't sleep, huh?" he asks, trying desperately to change the subject.

She shakes her head gently.

"Neither could I." The silence irks him somehow. He should find it comforting just to be so close to her, but no... "I have these...thoughts. They won't stop." He feels her eyes on him, urging him to do something, to say something. What? "'You will never be like your father.' 'The human is beneath you.' 'You deserve this.'" He recites the litany through gritted teeth. They're silent again, yet it's different this time. He opened up to her more than he knows; for a moment, Elsa can look into his heart and see the things that seethe at the edge of awareness.

"It's different for me." she admits. "They're not voices or thoughts. Maybe I could fight them if they were. It's just...me. I can barely get out of bed in the morning; I just want to sit there and _die_." Vergil can't even look at her right now. He's not sure how he's still listening and not wrapping her up in another hug. "I am _not_ a monster," Elsa says shakily. "Anna..showed me. But why do I still feel like one? Why...why do I feel like if I let my guard down for just one second, something bad is going to happen?"

Silence again while Vergil tries to summon up the nerve to say something. "Your Highness, this may be an imposition, but...would you like a hug?"

The queen turns to him, a measure of her royal poise reasserting itself. "I might, if you stop calling me 'your highness'."

"Then would you like a hug...Elsa?" he asks somewhat stiffly.

"Yes, I would." she murmurs, and before he can prepare himself, she steps forward and delicately wraps her arms about him. His heart feels like it wants to jump clean out of his chest again, but it almost feels good this time. He shivers as she nuzzles the side of his neck and lets out a hum of satisfaction. Where did she learn how to do that? Likely instinctual, or something left over from her childhood. He really wishes he could stop thinking about her parents right now, but what else is there to think of? How soft she is, how cool the faintest touch of her skin is against his, how even now she can't seem to stop twisting her hands together and how the occasional brush of her thumb against his back makes him wish there wasn't a bed so close by?

"You let your guard down." Vergil says suddenly.

Elsa makes another 'mmm' sound and his grip unconsciously tightens.

"Would you say this was a bad thing?"

She pulls away for a moment and smiles at him. "Not at all. Do you think we should we do it again?"

"Perhaps not. Wouldn't want the magic to die out so soon."

Her smile broadens. "There's one thing I hold true above everything else."

"Something beside Anna?" he asks rhetorically.

She leans forward to whisper in his ear. "Magic never dies." There's a tingling behind his back and when she returns, there's a frozen sculpture of a flower in her hand and her fingertips have a trace of mist about them. She presents it to him majestically.

"Tradition dictates that it's the man who presents the woman with a flower, not the other way round." He accepts it with a bow. "But I've always enjoyed breaking with tradition."

Elsa smiles even more broadly and he wishes he could touch her again. Just as he thinks to do so, she crosses to the door and turns to look at him. "Until tomorrow." she says again.

"You mean today." he says with a smile of his own. He follows her to the door. "Don't I get to stay the night?" he asks in as husky a voice as he can manage.

"It would be...very awkward...if someone were to find you here." she says with another blush. Vergil manages to keep his hand from trembling as he holds it out. They shake, and smile, and bid each other good night (not good morning) and sleep very soundly until well after dawn.


	7. An Idea Is Born

_It's a matter of style, flair,_  
_Je ne sais quoi._  
_Bravura, so to speak._  
_You gotta come out with that smile, that air,_  
_That qu'est-ce que c'est ca._  
_As I told Karen Horney,_  
_The day I was born I_  
_Was chic._ – Style, written by Stephen Schwartz and performed by David Ogden Stiers

* * *

Later that day, he waits outside her room for what seems like hours. He doesn't dare knock. The first minute is the worst, then the second, then the third, then the fourth...

Finally he has enough. With an abrupt turn on his heel that would have made his old coat swirl dramatically through the air (he still misses it and the gravitas it lent him, as opposed to the clothes he wears now), he storms off to the stairs. _She is a queen,_ he tells himself angrily. _She doesn't have time to lounge around in bed all day like you do._

Vergil stops for a moment at the foot of the stairs to regather his bearings and his poise. He wonders if he should go straight to the throne room like he did the other day. He doesn't want to seem too eager though, and she surely has other things to deal with besides him.

* * *

"Elsa's busy."

Vergil, his desire to see Elsa again having narrowly won out over the other competing urges, lowers his upraised fist and turns to glower at the redhead, who returns the glower from her position against the wall, arms crossed. "When will she be _not_ busy?" he asks her.

"When I say she isn't." Anna says smugly, and Vergil's glower intensifies. She pushes herself away from the wall and stands in front of him, arms still folded in front of her, before she sighs. "Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk-"

"-but you just happen to be naturally talented in that area." Vergil interrupts. She's about to stick her tongue out at him before she remembers that she's supposed to be a princess and settles for a quick roll of her brilliantly green eyes.

"I just don't want anyone hurting her. And you already did, so..." She shrugs expressively.

He winces at the reminder. _If that's how she wants to play, then so be it. _He forces himself to relax. "Your concern is touching." he says with an unusual lack of sarcasm. "I am sorry that I hurt her. I will do what I can to make up for it."

Anna looks at him dubiously. He doesn't blame her. At last, she uncrosses her arms. "Aw what the heck. Live and learn, right?" She smiles. "Maybe the trolls were wrong; maybe people _can_ change."

Vergil smiles tentatively back, then realizes what he just heard. "Trolls?" But Anna has already knocked on the door, so that'll have to wait.

* * *

Anna goes from guard to servant to courtier all the way up to Kai, and just a few minutes later, Elsa herself peers around the door. "If you've come to ask me for another snowman..." she begins teasingly before she sees Vergil standing off to her right. They exchange awkward nods of recognition while Anna watches, an uncharacteristic and yet almost imperceptibly sly smile on her face. "Vergil wanted to know if you were up for a walk." she says.

"Did I?" Vergil asks in surprise.

"Don't you?"

For a moment, he's about to answer, then he abruptly changes the subject. "I never told you my name." he says, remembering what they did and did not say to each other the last time they met.

"Elsa did." Anna says gleefully. "She tells me _every_thing."

Vergil turns to Elsa. "You do?"

She chuckles. "She's my sister; of course I do!"

"You didn't tell her-" he begins and stops even before the faint look of frantic warning darts across Elsa's face.

"Didn't tell me what?" Anna asks with another quick glance between them.

"It's nothing." Vergil says, hoping to cut her off. "Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness. Should I return later?"

"Elsa, please." she says. "You don't have to go; I was just about to-"

"No need to hurry on my part. Take your time...Elsa."

She smiles at him, which causes him to sigh inwardly (but only out of frustration at the way it makes his heart flutter) and with an apologetic wave of her long beautiful fingers, she pulls the door gently closed.

Anna turns to him, grinning mercilessly. "'Elsa', huh? Since when were you on first name terms with Her Royal Highness My Sister?"

"Doesn't she tell you everything? Ask her yourself." Vergil replies, moving past her on his way outside.

"Like I said, she's busy." She scurries in front of him and leans in conspiratorially. "And when I say everything, I mean EVERYthing." Her eyes widen suggestively.

Vergil says nothing, but brushes her aside and walks off down the hall. Anna glares after him, and it is precisely then that she remembers the legends tell of _two_ sons of Sparda.

She has a letter to write!


	8. At Long Last, Love

_When this old world starts getting me down,  
And people are just too much for me to face...  
I climb way up to the top of the stairs  
And all my cares just drift right into space...  
On the roof, it's peaceful as can be  
And there the world below can't bother me. –_ Up On The Roof, originally by The Drifters, though the version I had in mind was by Rockapella

* * *

He waits for her in the courtyard. It had not been his intention to skulk behind the doors to the castle, thrown open wide to the world; but skulk he does, in the dark and out of the way. It soon transpires however that darkness is relative: somehow it is the first place she comes to look after a brief and fruitless search of the courtyard. "Were you hiding back here?" Elsa asks with a smile that manages to be confused, worried and breathtaking all at the same time.

Vergil straightens self-consciously. "Not hiding; waiting." he tells her, lying to himself and to her (it's easier that way).

She doesn't buy it. "It looked as if you didn't want anyone to see you." she says.

"That's not entirely true." Vergil admits, looking at her in such a way as to make sure his point comes across very very clearly, which it does. Elsa blushes softly. He had no idea how much he'd missed that.

After a brief but by no means unpleasant pause, he asks, "So. Where shall we go?"

She clears her throat but can't keep the lingering smile off her face as she says, "You're the guest of honor. You decide."

"But you're the queen." he responds.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"If anyone knows the best places to go, it would be you."

"What did you have in mind?" she asks, still smiling.

He didn't really have anything in mind, so he has to think about it. "Somewhere quiet would be nice. A place we could sit and talk...or just stare off into the distance if you prefer."

Elsa hardly has to think at all. "I know _just_ the place." She gestures for him to follow her, and without thinking he does.

* * *

"Ladies first." Vergil says when they come to the foot of the tower.

Elsa shakes her head slightly. "We went down the stairs together." she says, hearkening back to their outing of the previous day. "Why don't we stick _with_ tradition, just this once?"

"Is it really a tradition if we only did it once?" he asks. She shrugs and he eyes the stairs carefully. "Seems a bit narrow for two people."

She sighs. "Fine. I'll go first..." He feels slightly silly for being so obstinate about such a trivial matter, but as she mounts the first few steps, she turns back to him with another smile. "...but only if you keep your eyes where they belong."

"As you wish." he replies, trying not to picture where she thinks his eyes might have gone, and prepares to follow her.

* * *

It is almost dusk by the time they reach the top. Elsa watches Vergil's face closely as he takes in the view. "It's beautiful." he has to admit. Her dress sparkles as she smiles in delight, the rays of the setting sun setting off a myriad of other colors.

He can't hold back much longer. "Your Highness," he begins, falling back on old habits out of stress. "I'm not entirely sure how to say this..."

"Then don't." she says, not harshly, but like she _knows_. She steps just a little closer to him. She does that thing with her hands again. He can't take it any more, so he gives in and he kisses her.

Softly at first; just a gentle touch of his lips to hers. Then, as he's about to pull away, belatedly realizing the size of the hole he's dug for himself, she puts a hand at the back of his neck and draws him back in. They're both new to this, both unsure what exactly they're supposed to be doing but doing it anyway, pressing their lips together again and again in a hundred new ways, a hundred new angles, each one more exciting than the last. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close, drinking in the indescribable way that she tastes, that perfect little mix of one thing and another that just screams _Elsa_. Just for a moment, the dueling storms of anger and fear die away, so that all there is in the whole of the world is them, alone and together as one, from the meeting of their lips to the way their hands feel blindly for each other before meeting in the middle.

Vergil is the first to break away, but he doesn't go far. He stays just a kiss away from her, hardly wanting to breathe, losing himself in her wide wondering eyes. Elsa puts a hand to his cheek and just holds it there, smiling even as she trembles in the aftershock.

She doesn't have to tell him to follow her this time; he doesn't think he could do anything else even if he tried. They stumble down the stairs and back through the castle, their eyes resolutely fixed on the path ahead. They have just enough presence of mind left to look cautiously up and down the hall before they enter her bedroom.

The bed is only barely big enough, but they manage.


	9. Solace

_When an irresistible force such as you  
Meets an old immovable object like me,  
You can bet just as sure as you live..._

_Something's gotta give._  
_Something's gotta give._  
_Something's gotta give. _– Something's Gotta Give by Frank Sinatra

* * *

For the longest time, neither of them manage to get any sleep. They're too thrilled by the nearness of their bodies, though they manage to refrain from any 'hanky-panky' as Anna would call it. Elsa thinks to herself that the move to her chambers was more out of a need for privacy than any sense of fatigue. _How could anyone get tired of this? Just being here, just _looking_ at him..._

They kiss of course, many many times, each so delicate and tender they almost want to scream. But they take it slow, just as they've always done, and it's only when Vergil slides a tentative hand along her hip that she thinks to ask, "What am I doing?"

He pulls away to look at her. "I don't believe there's a word for this." he says dryly.

"I mean what am I doing with _you_? I don't even know you. And I went off on Anna for wanting to marry someone she just met. WE just met. I...I'm following in her footsteps..." Panic starts to set in, and Vergil doesn't know what to do. A hug or a kiss would hardly suffice given what she just said.

"Perhaps we both need time to consider this." he says heavily and starts to get out of bed.

Elsa shuts her eyes desperately, then, as he crosses the room and reaches for the handle on the door, whispers "Wait!" She turns to face him as he does the same. "You don't have to go." she says, sitting upright, still looking worried. "Whatever happens, happens. Just for tonight, let's forget all the other things we have to do and just be who we are."

Vergil looks at the floor. "I don't know who I am yet," he says. "But I do know this." Elsa watches his approach with baited breath. He bends over until they are eye to eye again. "I love you. Some day I may come to terms with what that means. But for now..." He smiles faintly. "Let's forget all of that."  
Elsa beams gratefully at him and pulls him into another kiss. Between one thing and another, it's quite some time before he's able to get back under the sheets with her.

They pass the night in endless love, hardly saying a word. When their lips are sore and swollen (the sight of which prompts one last teasing kiss from their partner), they nestle in each other's arms, but even that cannot send them to sleep; their bodies are too on fire with all the strange new sensations and feelings. Their eyes close, it's true, but they close to better savor the moment, the distant feel of their lover's heart beating along with their own.

There will be time for harsh words, for doubt, and for self-recrimination later. Tonight belongs to them.

* * *

When morning arrives, Vergil dimly hears a knock on the door. Somewhat less dimly, he hears Elsa's hastily shouted response. But he is keenly aware of her lips brushing against his cheek as she murmurs, "Now what am I going to do with you?"

He struggles to open his eyes, but finds himself very happy when he does. Gazing into her spectacularly blue eyes will do that to a man. "I can think of a few things..." he mumbles.

She swats him with a pillow. "Behave!" she scolds him playfully.

"I AM behaving." he says. "Or else I'd do this!" He springs to life and wrestles her back down onto the bed, reveling in the way she squeals in delight as he burrows into the crook of her neck, repaying a favor from the other night. Turnabout is fair play.

He stops abruptly when someone knocks on the door again. "Is everything all right Your Majesty?"

Elsa takes a moment to make sure her voice sounds normal before she replies. "Yes Kai. I'm...I'm fine."

She reaches for the pillow and hits Vergil over the head again. "Stop it!" she whispers half-heartedly. "I have a kingdom to tend to!"

"They don't need you like I do." he growls. She stops mid-swing. "Elsa?" He sits up to look at her. She looks _scared_. "What is it?" he asks, even though he already knows.

"You should go." she whispers, turning away.

"I didn't mean it like that..."

"Go." Her voice brooks no argument. He gets to his feet without another word and storms out, not sure who he's really angry with.

And she cries.


	10. Wild Endeavor Against Fate

_We all fight our own fight.  
Will you fuel the desire to win? _

_Always struggling with the truth,  
Of the life that might have been..._

_But no matter how jagged your path is,  
You'll always come back to the road. _- The War Still Rages Within by Maniac Agenda

* * *

A hush falls over the castle of Arendelle. The everyday bustle of life within its walls seems strangely muffled, as if the inhabitants know what has transpired. They certainly know that something is amiss, for Anna hardly leaves her sister's side, even moreso than usual. Some of the servants attest to having seen Elsa wearing gloves earlier in the day. Whatever the case, she certainly isn't wearing them now.

"It was just a joke," she whispers to Anna. "I don't know why I got so worked up about it."

Anna rubs Elsa's shoulder comfortingly. "It's okay to get worked up over things you've never done before. We're both new at this. Although I gotta say, Kristoff is less of a demon, more of a 'dances-with-reindeer' kind of guy..."

Elsa looks up, momentarily distracted from her grief by her sister's unusual string of words. "What...?"

"He doesn't really." Anna assures her. "He just talks to him." She glances around with exaggerated caution. "Between you and me, I think Sven's the brains of the operation."

The not-so-little not-so-white lie works, and Elsa almost laughs, prompting Anna to laugh as well. The merriment lingers for a while, until Anna's curiosity gets the better of her. "So what...happened?" she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

Elsa blushes furiously as she recounts the tale. "I was trying to get him out of bed, but he pulled me down and started..."

Anna's eyes are as big as saucers. "Gooo Elsa!" she cheers in awe.

"It wasn't like that." Elsa says, blushing even more. "It was just kissing; lots and lots of kissing."

"Isn't it the BEST?" Anna asks. Elsa buries her face in her hands, but nods in agreement.

"I tried to get away by saying I had things I needed to do, and he said the kingdom didn't need him as much as he did..." she mumbles through her hands.

There are some things sisters that have only recently become friends again simply do not ask each other. Anna comes remarkably close to asking one of them and clenches her fists tightly to dissuade herself. "What happened next?" she squeaks through clenched teeth.

Elsa shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I told him to leave."

Anna opens one eye. "You did what?"

"Anna..." Elsa sighs in disbelief. "Just because I'm twenty-one doesn't mean I've done this sort of thing before."

"You're twenty-one and a QUEEN." Anna reminds her with a nudge.

"Don't remind me." Elsa grumbles. "I just...it was going too fast. I only met him a week ago and he's already in my bed...?"

Anna makes a note to tell her new friend about the son of Sparda's latest doings when he arrives. "So now what?" Neither of them seems to have an answer. "Are you just going to sit here and hope he makes a move?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Elsa stands up majestically. "I'm going to do my job." Despite the seriousness of her tone, she makes sure to give her sister a firm hug. "Thank you Anna." she whispers.

"I didn't really DO anything, but you're welcome..." Anna replies, returning the hug fiercely.

Elsa pulls back, gazing at Anna from an arms-length away. "Don't worry about Vergil." she tells her. "I'll figure something out."

"Okay..."

"Promise?" Elsa asks knowingly.

Anna sighs dramatically. "I promise I'm not going to worry about your stupid old boyfriend." _Why would I? _she thinks to herself. _I know exactly what to do..._

* * *

Vergil slams the door in Anna's face. She frowns thoughtfully at it for a few moments, then sticks her tongue out, whirls on her heel and rushes down the stairs. Kristoff is more or less where she left him, and she doesn't even think of resisting the temptation to sneak up behind him and fling her arms around his midriff. The helmet he had been holding above him while he inspected the interior of the suit of armor it belonged to comes crashing down onto his head, and they spend a few frantic seconds trying to get it off before someone notices. When they succeed in replacing it (Kristoff wisely deciding to forgo the possibility of additional misadventures by taking the helmet from Anna and putting it back atop the chestplate by himself), he sighs in relief before he turns to her and asks, "No luck?"

"Nope," she replies with a sigh of her own. "On to plan B."

"What's plan B?" he asks.

"I was kinda hoping you knew." she admits sheepishly.

* * *

Plan B didn't work. Neither did plans C, D or E (even childlike pouting didn't seem to change E for Elsa's mind). So they roam the castle as sneakily as they know how to, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Somehow, despite Anna's unceasing unwitting efforts to trip over everything in sight ("It's not easy watching your feet when you're busy watching someone else's!" she sighs at one point), they've managed to remain undetected by their quarry. Vergil stalks through the halls seemingly at random, while Elsa glides elegantly from the council chamber to the great hall and wherever else her queenly duties might take her. She looks well enough, better than well truth be told, but Anna swears repeatedly that her sister is fit to burst, though she's less emphatic about whether it might be from anger or sadness.

Finally, as the sun is beginning to set, the time has come. Anna nearly runs headlong into Kristoff in her excitement. "She's headed for the library!" she squeals.

"I know! Vergil's coming the other way! But...how are we going to get them in the same room together?" he says.

Luckily for everyone, Anna's thought ahead this time. "Easy! We push 'em in and lock the door!" (Exactly how much thought she's given it is a matter of debate.)

"We don't have the key..."

This brings her up short for three whole seconds. "I'll go look for it!" Without a backwards glance, she hurries off, talking to herself as she goes. "It shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean why would you put a key so far away from the room it opens?"

"Anna!" Kristoff hisses at her. She skids to a halt on a rug, and turns to glare at him. He beckons her over urgently and she musses up the rug even more as she hurries back to join him. "They're almost here!" he whispers. Sure enough, they're closing in fast. "What are we going to do?"

Once more unto the breach. Anna puffs herself up ferociously. "We do what we have to. Now let's move out!"

* * *

Elsa and Vergil round their respective corners, too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice each other for the moment. Out of nowhere, Anna and Kristoff swoop in and accost the two feuding lovebirds.

"Anna! What are you-" Elsa starts to say.

"You'll thank me later!" Anna chirps, bustling her sister into the library.

Vergil says nothing, just glares daggers at Kristoff, who at least has the good grace to look somewhat apologetic about the situation.

The whole thing is over in less than five seconds. Anna scurries back into the hall and shuts the door firmly before leaning against it and wiping her brow. A tad prematurely, as it turns out.

"Uh, Anna?" Kristoff says. "It opens the other-"

Anna has just enough time to ask "What?" before toppling backwards as the door opens from the inside. "Whoaaaaa!"

"-way." he finishes, and winces.

* * *

"Anna! Are you all right?" The redhead opens her eyes to discover that she's landed safely in the arms of her sister, who intercepted her on her way to the floor.

"I'm fine." she mutters. "Just a bruised ego." Vergil glowers at her over Elsa's shoulder and she narrows her eyes at him in return.

"What is this about?" Elsa asks, a bewildered frown upon her face.

"She got tired of the two of you fighting, and she thought the best thing to do was to lock you in a room until you kissed and made up." Kristoff explains.

"Obviously." Vergil says sardonically.

Elsa looks down at her sister, who's struggling to stand up. "Oh Anna..." She helps her sister to her feet and hugs her tenderly. "I told you I was going to think of something." she says into Anna's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, you took too long." Anna replies into Elsa's shoulder. She lets go, and grins broadly. "So are you gonna do it?"

Elsa turns pink. "What?"

"Make up." Anna says, a little too innocently. "What did you think I meant?"

Elsa stammers out a reply. "Nothing; I-I was just..." She stops as she catches sight of Anna's ever-widening grin. "What is it?" Anna can hardly contain herself. "Why are you smiling?" Elsa seems to shrink into herself, and at the first sign of her distress, Vergil and Anna rush to her aid. Anna is closer though. Anna will always be closer. He's not sure which of the sisters he's more jealous of: Anna for being so loving, or Elsa for being so loved. Elsa rushes into Anna's arms, and the younger sister murmurs soothingly to the older one, "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm just teasing. It's what sisters do, right?" The implicit declaration of love is enough to bring tears to Elsa's eyes, and Kristoff's too. Vergil meanwhile feigns disinterest. Badly.

Elsa finally pulls away with a grateful smile. "Thank you Anna. For _every_thing." she whispers.

"You're welcome. You're ALWAYS welcome." Anna says, fighting back tears of her own. Elsa gives her one last affectionate touch on the cheek before she steps back into the library and closes the door gently. Not a word is spoken.


	11. Solitude

_Begin again in the night.  
Let's sway again tonight,  
Your arm on my shoulder,  
Your cheek against mine.  
Where can we go?  
When will we find that we know...?_

Where can we go?  
When will we find that we know  
To let go...?  
Begin, begin again tonight... - Begin Again, written by Chris Avellone and Mikey Dowling

* * *

The silence lingers inside the room, though the atmosphere does it no favors. They look briefly at each other, look away, to the same place: the couch to their left, then to the chairs further apart by the fireplace, for the couch somehow feels too intimate. "Should we sit down?" Elsa asks.

"Ladies first." Vergil says. He hadn't meant to be polite, but nevertheless he waits until she's seated in the chair closest to her before taking his seat opposite her.

"Thank you for coming." she says shyly.

"I didn't have much of a choice." he replies dryly.

"I suppose not..." she admits, and suddenly he realizes he's come to a crossroads. The choice he's been running from his whole life must be made, and it must be made now. He can return to the life he led before, or he can change. He can go back to seeking power no matter the cost, or he could try it Dante's way again.

His insides knot. His fists clench. _Is this what people mean when they talk about butterflies in their stomach? Is this what it would be like being her? _She looks so delicate, like the ice she commands. How does she stand it?

How does she stand him? The nights they've spent together should have been a warning sign, the argument they'd had to be the first of many. He wants to ask, but for the first time in his life he's afraid to be right.

She's looking at him. Staring. Watching. Judging. She knows what he's done, what he tried to do. The humans must have told stories about it. His brother couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it, and the woman... He doesn't know anything about her. He doesn't know anything about Elsa either, come to think of it. What secrets does she keep, what unspoken tragedies dog her every footstep?

Elsa worries. It's what she does. She worries about her kingdom, she worries about her sister, she worries about her children, Olaf and the one she left behind, and she can't help it, she worries about her powers, what a sudden shock could make her do to everything that she has left to love. He won't stay. She sees it in his eyes. He's sick of her, sick of her worrying, of her desperate need to be loved.

Why can't she be happy? She thought she'd known what happiness felt like: when she let her hair down on the mountain, when against all hope her sister came back for her, because she loved her. Why can't that be enough? But that all changed when she kissed him. She just wants to feel the way she felt when he brought his face close to hers and whispered that he loved her. The thrill down her spine, the wonder, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms and he in hers...

"I'm sorry." Vergil says, and it's over. She can feel her heart break. She's cold now, so cold, just like Anna before she died. She wishes she could die. She hopes that she'll be able to let go and _die_ when he walks out that door. There probably wouldn't be anything left in the morning, just a little puddle where she turned into ice and disappeared. They'd have to bury an empty coffin, like they did when her mother and father died. _Can I see them? Just one more time?_

All this tumbles through her mind before he continues. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I forced myself on you."

"No! No you didn't!" Elsa says frantically. "It was nice; it-it felt _good_! I didn't know what you were thinking, that's all. And it scared me."

"I'm sorry." Vergil says heavily.

"No! No you don't have to be sorry!" she says desperately. "I'm the one who should be sorry! I shouldn't have made you go; I shouldn't have tried to...push you away, like I push everyone away!" She folds in on herself, clutching at her arms, unable to look at him. He _should_ go. It's what she deserves.

He never knows what to do with her, least of all when she's so distraught. He leaves his seat and crouches beside her. She's curled up into a ball now, snuggling reflexively into the back of the chair. He puts a hand on her shoulder and she sniffs quietly and it hurts. He can't even speak. He can't even say her damn name, so he climbs into the chair beside her. He wraps himself around her, he can feel her crying silently, can feel the way she's shaking, and it hurts.

He wishes she would just turn around and cry to him instead of the empty room. He doesn't know how she'd manage it with the chair so small, but he wishes she would _try_. He wishes he could make it all go away. He wishes he was strong enough to take away all this pain, but he can't even talk. All he can do is hold her, hold her close; not close enough, but close.

Elsa sniffs again. His heart breaks like hers. "Why are you doing this?" she whimpers.

"Because." She turns to face him, somehow. "Because I love you." And there's nothing else he can say.

They snuggle, if you can call it snuggling. They...rest together, their bodies entwined in a complicated tangle they're not sure if they'll be able to figure out. They suppose they could move to the couch, but that would mean leaving the safety of this moment that they have, so they don't. After a while, Elsa struggles upright and climbs into his lap, resting her head and her hand on his chest. Vergil still doesn't know what to do, so he just keeps holding her. He could spend the rest of his life holding her, and in some ways he will. But she'll hold him back, because turnabout is fair play.

Elsa looks up at him. "I love you." she whispers. In response, he kisses her. She kisses him back, her hand drifting up to rest against his jaw and cheek. They both taste like tears, for their tears are mingling together and falling lovingly to the floor. She sighs into his lips and makes him shiver.

The door opens for a moment. Anna pokes her head in and her face lights up when she sees the two of them in the chair. She opens her mouth to cheer them on when Kristoff taps her on the shoulder and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. She opens her mouth again to argue with him, but he grabs her gently but firmly by the wrist and drags her out the door. Neither Elsa nor Vergil notice this, nor do they notice when the door closes a little more loudly than it opened. They don't notice the faint sounds of an argument in the halls, sounds that grow fainter by the second, until right at the end they're cut off entirely when their owners decide to put their efforts to better use. They've come to like arguing.

Vergil breaks the kiss. "My neck is killing me." he says apologetically.

"Mine is too." Elsa says with a smile. "Now what?" she asks.

"Hmm..." He scratches his head thoughtfully like his brother does. "How about a dance?"

"I don't dance." she says regretfully.

"Neither do I."

"I mean, I don't know _how_ to dance."

"Neither do I." he says again and she laughs. "Shall we?" She nods in delight and together they find their feet.

"What kind of dance?" Elsa asks as they walk hand-in-hand to an open corner of the room.

"Whatever comes to mind." he says.

"I don't know any dances." she reminds him.

"Just do what comes naturally." he tells her.

"Like this?" she asks, holding out her arms inexpertly.

"No, like this." he says quietly. He puts an arm across her shoulder. She does the same. He holds her close. She does the same.

And they dance.


	12. Nothing Matters

_You've never looked more beautiful;_

_Your eyes like two full moons... _- Nothing Matters When We're Dancing, originally by The Magnetic Fields, although yet again I had a different version in mind: The indescribably haunting cover version by The Antlers

* * *

They drift around the floor as one. In their minds, the dusty old library has been transformed into the great hall below. All eyes are on them, but they don't care, they keep on dancing.

For a moment, Vergil's compulsion to wonder about the future breaks through the trance of their unknowingly shared vision. "Will you marry me?" he asks abruptly.

Elsa doesn't stop to think. "No." she says. "Not yet."

For some reason, this comforts him. "Good." He feels the need to justify himself. "I was wondering, if it was...proper for the queen to date someone. Are we...dating?" He feels like a child again.

Her response is to hold him closer and whisper "sshhhh" in a gentle soothing voice. He forces himself to relax into her and enjoy the moment for what it is.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." he decides aloud.

She pulls away for a moment. "I never thought I'd have to say this," she begins, smiling fondly. "But you talk too much." As if to ease whatever sting she worries her words might carry, she leans in and brushes her lips against his, just long enough to linger but not quite long enough for him to fully appreciate the way she feels (and in turn, the way she makes him feel). When the kiss ends, he says to her with a smirk, "I'm taller than you."

"No you're not." she says.

"Yes I am. You're wearing heels."

"And I'm still taller."

"Prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything." Elsa says.

"Are you afraid of being wrong?"

"No...I-"

"Then take them off." Vergil lets his hand creep teasingly down her leg. "Or should I do it for you?"

Elsa slaps his hand away. "Behave." she tells him for the second (but by no means last) time, holding a warning finger under his nose. Reluctantly, he returns his hand to its full upright position around her midriff. "The Queen of Arendelle does not remove her shoes for just anyone." she says with mock dignity.

"I'm hardly just 'anyone'." he informs her. "Legend has it my father ruled the human world for many years until he disappeared. So in many ways we're equal."

Elsa is about to say something when she discovers that she can't take it any more and bursts out laughing. Soon, he does as well. They laugh for minutes on end, practically giddy over something so small as to make it doubly hilarious. When they finally calm down, their hearts are full to bursting with love, so they release it the only way they know how: with a kiss. Elsa wraps her arms around his neck almost automatically, drawing him closer (as if he'd want to be anywhere else). He returns the kiss just as passionately, his hands itching to go places they probably shouldn't. He settles for placing them on her hips, not too high, not too low, just right... God, he loves her. He's not even sure he can tell her how much he loves her, loves the way she tastes, loves the way she smells, the way she looks, the way she talks, acts, feels...

She does that thing with her mouth again, where she sighs dreamily as she moves her head just enough to make everything feel like it's brand new again as she moves in for another go. Vergil surprises himself and her by breaking away. He's _shaking_. "I'm sorry." he says, looking into her eyes. "I..." He shakes his head. "I don't deserve you."

Elsa puts a finger to his lips. "Enough." she says, softly but firmly.

Vergil nods in agreement. "I love you." he says.

"I know." she whispers. "I love you too." They stand there, as if frozen to the spot. It's enough just to _be_ right now, to stand so close that he can see one beautiful wisp of hair trying to work its way free of her perfectly combed braid. Elsa blinks, once, twice, and the long moment is finally over. "I guess we should get some sleep." she says.

"What time is it?" Vergil asks, searching the room in vain for a clock.

"I don't know. It _feels_ late though." she says.

"Perhaps you're right." he says. Then, remembering what happened last time, he asks carefully, "Should I go back to my room?"

Elsa frowns ever so slightly, her gaze drifting off to the side as she tries to make up her mind. "No," she says at last. "You can sleep...with me if you like. Just..." She makes a vague gesture of some sort which he's unable to decipher. Luckily, he's fairly certain he understands what she's trying to say.

"No 'funny business'." he agrees. She smiles in relief and they walk almost shyly to the door, scarcely touching or looking at one another. "What should we do?" Vergil asks, which she takes to mean 'what should we do in public?'

"Be...polite." she suggests. "Restrained. Dignified."

He thinks he already is, but once again she manages to get her point across, and the meaning sinks in a little while later. "I think I see what you mean." he says slowly. She's reaching for the door handle when he says, "You don't want me to do this-" and kisses her fiercely. She's surprised but also _pleased_ somehow. She doesn't raise her arms or do anything really, she just stands there and kisses him right back. They break apart several seconds later, flushed and breathing heavily. "-in public." he finishes. She nods breathlessly. "All right." he says. "I believe I can handle that." Quickly, they tend to their appearances; straightening clothes, hair, and faces before nodding reassuringly to one another and opening the door.

There's no one there.

* * *

Elsa stifles her giggles behind her hand as they hurry to her chambers. In an attempt to further muffle the noise they're making, Vergil scoops her up in his arms and dashes along the corridor; an attempt which fails almost immediately when she lets out a yelp of surprise. He bites back the urge to try again by kissing her, and is spared from having to ask for directions by Elsa tugging at his sleeve and saying "It's this one." With an inward sigh of relief, he sets her down and does his best to restore his dignity by opening the door for her. She smiles at him gratefully and moves into the room.

In the dark, it is suddenly much harder to imagine going to bed with her and NOT engaging in some 'funny business', but Vergil is resolved to be a man of his word. He restrains himself to a quick peck on the cheek before he settles in for the night.

Fate however has other ideas, and he is wakened by the sound of someone whimpering. As he struggles to his senses, he can feel Elsa shaking beside him. He rolls over. "Elsa?" he asks, putting a hand on her shoulder. She turns, unshed tears glistening in her big beautiful eyes, and manages to throw herself sideways at him, burying her face in his chest. "What's wrong?" Vergil asks into her hair, not really in a position to pose the question to her more directly. At first, she's unable to respond through her strained whimpers and hiccups of grief, but over the course of the next hour, the story comes out...

* * *

"_I'll take good care of Arendelle, your majesty." he assures her, raising his sword above his head._

"_And Anna...?" she whispers._

_He falters. "Anna? She's dead, remember? You _killed_ her."_

"_I killed her..." She stares blankly at the ice beneath her, wishing with all her might that she could die as well. Mercifully, she does._

* * *

When Elsa finishes her story, telling both the dream and the truth, Vergil's hands are clenched tighter than he can ever remember clenching them before. "That could have been me once." he remarks with effort. She looks up at him in confusion. "There was a time I would have done anything for power, even hurting innocents. But somehow...it never came to that. Maybe I was lucky. Maybe the good my father had passed down to both of us, and I would have been able to stop myself." He looks down at her and hugs her tight. "But that is behind me now, because of you." Elsa hugs him back, though not without some trepidation.

"Let's get some sleep," she suggests. "It sounds as if we have a lot to talk about tomorrow."

Vergil considers this. "Indeed we do." He stops her as she starts to wriggle free, leaning in to kiss her gently. Despite her newfound doubt, she still loves him, and returns the kiss with vigor, resting a hand against the side of his face. Even when locked in a passionate embrace, she feels compelled to do something with her hands. "Thank you Elsa." he whispers when they are done. She smiles beautifully before rolling over to her side of the bed. Her dreams after that are peaceful and untroubled, but his are filled with fear and doubt, and above all, the spectre of the black angel.


	13. Ice Slowly Melts

_Here comes the sun.  
Here comes the sun, and I say...  
It's all right. _- Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles

* * *

Something tickles his cheek. He moves to brush it away, but stops when she presses her lips to his forehead. Without opening his eyes, he whispers "Hey."

"Hey." she replies. He can tell by the sound of her voice that she is smiling. "I have to go." she whispers. "I've got a lot of work today."

"Mmm." he mumbles in agreement. But as she's moving away, he forces himself out of bed and to his feet. His eyes open just for a moment and he grabs her by the hand and pulls her to him in one smooth motion. Their lips meet. Their eyes close. And, in an unusual but by no means unpleasant turn of events, it is _his_ hand that snakes around the back of _her_ head this time.

He breaks away a scant few seconds later, intending to let her go, but when he sees her, lips still faintly pursed, eyes still tightly shut, he goes back in for another one, longer this time. Much longer. In the early hours of the morning, their resolve is somewhat lessened, so their hands are free to wander, as indeed they do. At one point, Elsa makes a muffled squeaking noise and Vergil feels his insides knot and unknot pleasurably. He pulls her even closer, savoring the lingering scent of soap and water that speaks of a queen fresh from the bath, and his thoughts become decidedly unchaste. Quickly, he tears himself away, barely missing the blush upon her face or the way she's started to tremble. There's a moment of awkward but paradoxically enjoyable silence while Elsa attempts to remember how to breathe. Vergil stares at the wall, trying desperately not to wonder how things might have gone if he'd woken up a few minutes earlier.

At length, Elsa clears her throat. "I should...I should go." she says. Vergil nods. She turns to leave, then thinks better of it and steps forward to kiss Vergil on the cheek. "Be good today." she whispers.

"Be good to who?" he asks.

"Everyone." She hugs him gently. "Even you." she murmurs. She knows him so well.

The doubt starts to surge within him as she makes for the door. "Elsa." he calls suddenly. She turns in the doorway. He hurries to her side and, in the bright morning light of the hall, not caring or hoping that anyone might see them, he kisses her again; softer and more gently than the last one, holding her beautiful face in his hands. "Better safe than sorry." he says once the kiss is done. She smiles at him and at last, they part ways, if only for a while.

* * *

The stranger ducks back behind the wall as Vergil watches Elsa go. It's his turn to smile now, as he relives their long and complicated history together. Then, he takes off down the hall in search of his fellow conspirators. _Looks like we might have to take things up a notch._

* * *

The day is agony without her. At first, Vergil considers thanking the redheaded whirlwind and the tall unlikely blonde for their efforts, but they're nowhere to be found. Storming through the castle holds little appeal right now. He would go in search of Elsa again, but he doesn't want to seem too needy...

Then he remembers the garden. He relocates it with ease, and the memories of his last visit help to soothe him as he prepares to meditate. Soon he is adrift in the darkness of his mind, looking for answers to questions he dares not think aloud. He asks if this has made him happy. He asks if this has made him whole. And in the silence, he asks if any of it is true; the things he's said, the things he's done. Is it all just another game? One that runs so deep even he believes it until the end? _Everything has to end..._

The questions hover just out of range, the way he's trained them to so as not to break the spell. He wonders idly what he should do now, what time it is. But time has no meaning in here. It could just as easily have been three seconds instead of three hours. It is only when he feels a change in the air that he thinks of surfacing. The breeze has shifted, bringing with it the sense of someone other, and with that sense comes a smell: the scent of vanilla, so soft as to almost pass without notice amidst the flowers and the grass, but he notices. He notices, but he waits to see what she will do. A hand comes to rest upon his shoulder: cold, delicate, fragile. _It would be so easy to break her,_ someone says in the moment before he rises to greet her.

His heart is racing as his eyes open. He lifts his head and sees Elsa's face above him. Her hesitant smile widens. "Hi." she says quietly. Suddenly he's forgotten how to smile with that damnable thought coursing through his brain. "Hi." Vergil says, getting stiffly to his feet.

"Is something wrong?" she asks. Torn between the desire to tell the truth and the urge to protect her like he protects all the things he loves, he says nothing. "Hey." She lays a hand against his face, turning it to her. "Look at me."

He closes his eyes, pretending that it is to better feel the touch of her skin once again. "Talk to me." she urges him.

"It's nothing." he tells her.

Elsa says nothing, just tilts her head to the side and lets a little bit of sorrow into her smile. Then she pulls him in for a hug. Before, they had been equal in all things, but now she is the one in control, like she's always wanted, and it scares her. She doesn't know why, but it scares her. To see this man, this demon, the son of the Legendary Dark Knight looking so broken and lost... What happened to him? Why does she feel like he's afraid of himself, just as she's afraid of _her_self? She can feel him struggling not to cling to her; it's just what she'd do in his place after all.

"Do you trust me?" Elsa asks him after a while.

"Of course" is all he has to say. She squeezes his hand in hers and leads him out of the sunlight. They walk through the castle; at one point, Vergil tries to pull his hand away, but she holds fast.

"I don't care." she says to the question he doesn't have to ask.

"You're the queen..." he says limply.

"They're bound to find out eventually. We might as well make it easy on them." she replies.

They pause before the open doors that lead out to the main courtyard. "Here goes." Elsa says, her tone belying the certainty of the words she'd spoken before. She steals a glance at Vergil. "Are you ready?" she asks. In response, he swoops in and kisses her, there, in front of the whole world, their hands gently clasping one another in the middle just as they'd done the first time they ever did this. And just like before, their minds fall silent. Time itself seems to be holding its breath. His lips, dry and chafing like the stubble on his chin. Hers, cool and soft and tender like the rest of her. One thought courses through their minds and hearts, and it's a thought they've had many times before. She wonders if he can hear it. He wonders if she can. They don't, but they know all the same. _I love you._

All too soon, the moment ends and they're left with a strange sense of loneliness, though they're far from alone. The moderately-sized crowd that has gathered around the entrance breaks into vigorous applause when the kiss is ended. Elsa looks about her in shock while Vergil looks as though he wishes he could still disappear. They make their way through the crowd, Elsa trying furiously to subdue the blush rising in her cheeks as she endeavors to thank each of the well-wishers individually. Vergil takes a moment to marvel at how he could be standing next to someone and still manage to feel like he wants to be closer to her.

As they walk through the gates, Vergil tries his hand at reading her mind the way she seems to have taken to reading his. "You regret it."

Elsa looks at him, startled and afraid. "What? No, I-"

"The kiss." He hates himself for causing her even a moment's pain, for adding another droplet of fear into her mind, but it was the only way to ease the relentless refrain inside his own mind. _It would be so easy...to break her..._

"No!" she says again, then repeats it softly. "No... Maybe..." She sighs in frustration. "I don't know."

"You can't keep on doubting yourself forever." Vergil tells her. "Our choices _make_ us who we are. You can't seriously think one missed kiss would turn you into a monster."

They cross the bridge, Elsa still struggling to find words to say. "What about you?" she asks finally. He turns away, unable to look at her. "I see it all the time-" She turns his head back to her. "-in your eyes." she finishes, smiling sadly at him again. Against his better judgment, he leans into the touch of her hand on his cheek just a little, though he is able to fight off the momentary impulse to hold his hand against hers.

He opens his eyes. "It's nothing." he says, repeating the words that have come to be his mantra the last few days. "Nothing that should be discussed here." He steps away to look at the little village before them. "Humans." Vergil says almost wonderingly. "I never could see what my brother found so interesting in them. They were so weak, so...ordinary. But now I know there is more to life than just power." He hesitates before speaking the next words that are on his lips. "For all his power, even _he_ was afraid at the end."

The air grows chill at even the thought of his name. "Who was?" Elsa asks him, hiding her hands behind her back, though she knows she is not the source of it this time.

He turns to face her. "His name is not spoken lightly," he warns. "Even by someone like me." He grimaces. "_Especially_ by someone like me." She is about to ask, no, demand that he explain himself, but then he comes closer and whispers in her ear.

"Mundus." The world seems to darken for a moment, as if the sound of his name is enough to bring him power. Elsa shivers in spite of herself and he withdraws.

"What did he do to you?" she asks.

"You don't want to know." Vergil tells her.

They are silent for the longest while. Slowly, the darkness seems to fade, but they have eyes only for each other. At last, she says, "Come with me."

"Where?" he asks, though in truth he hardly cares.

"The North Mountain." she says, pointing to the north. Vergil follows her outstretched arm with his gaze. Off in the distance, the mountaintop seems to glow in the setting sun. "There's something you should know about me."

_What is there to know? _he thinks. _I already know I love you._ But he follows her anyway.


End file.
